


Places With No Carpet

by Mara



Category: TharnType the Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Bartender AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23368147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara/pseuds/Mara
Summary: As a part-time student and bartender in Manhattan, Type has found that roommates and cramped apartments are necessary evils. Until he’s out on the street and Tharn, his boss and certified hunk, steps in. Anyone else would die to share his apartment, not to mention his bed, but Type’s not sure this is a good idea. His co-workers at Prime – the cocktail bar Tharn owns with his siblings – are teasing him, his boss is being too sweet for words, and Type’s sure this is all going to end up in a disaster.
Relationships: Tharn Kirigun/Type (TharnType)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 255





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most important note: The non-con I warned for is a few lines and only vaguely described. It will be _super_ obvious when it’s coming, so just skip a few paragraphs and you’re good to go.
> 
> Slightly less important note: In real life, I absolutely positively 100% wouldn’t approve of a relationship between a boss and an employee. It’s unethical and an all-around horrible idea that often ends poorly for everyone. However, this is fantasy, not real life.
> 
> Not at all important note: This story was originally based on the summary of the romance novel “Shaken and Stirred” by Kathleen O'Reilly, but as I wrote, the story morphed enough that I had to make some changes. I’ll add the original summary at the end, in case you’re interested.

> Well, son, I’ll tell you:  
>  Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.  
>  It’s had tacks in it,  
>  And splinters,  
>  And boards torn up,  
>  And places with no carpet on the floor—  
>  Bare.  
>  But all the time  
>  I’se been a-climbin’ on…  
>  —from “Mother and Son,” by Langston Hughes

Type sighed, looking at the pathetic pile of bags and boxes that constituted his earthly possessions. He leaned gingerly on the nearest box, searching the street for Techno and his beat-up car.

Techno arrived a few minutes later, double-parking in front of the building, his expression saying he was coming with bad news.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My parents said no to storing your stuff. You can sleep on the couch for a night or two, but…”

“Fuck.” Type rubbed his face. “What am I going to do now that my damn roommate got us kicked out?”

“Is there anyone who has space?”

Type shrugged. “Not that I’ve been able to find.”

“What about at the bar?”

“Huh?”

“Maybe they have some space to store your stuff,” Techno said. “They probably won’t fire you for asking.”

Type had to agree. “I guess I can ask. Can you take me there? Maybe Thanya will be working. She’s the least intimidating member of the family.”

“That’s the spirit!’ Techno clapped him on the back. “Let’s load up and see what happens.”

They each grabbed a box and started the process of cramming everything in the car.

* * *

The closest parking space to Prime, the bar Type worked at, was less than three blocks away, which was pretty damn lucky for a late Thursday afternoon in Manhattan. Type just hoped it was a good omen.

Looking at the things in the backseat, Techno said, “Maybe I should stay with your stuff while you talk.”

His stuff was pathetic but Type had to admit that thieves weren’t likely to care if they felt like breaking into the car. He nodded. “I’ll let you know what they say.”

“Good luck, man.” Techno pulled out his phone and settled in.

Type strode toward the bar, determined.

Ben looked up from restocking glasses when Type came in. “Are you working tonight?”

“Nah.” He hesitated. “Are any of the bosses here?” Please be Thanya. Or Thorn. Please.

“Yeah, Tharn’s upstairs. You can go up, he’s alone.”

“Great, thanks.” Type wanted to curse, but he conjured up a smile for his coworker.

The steps had never seemed so gloomy, nor the shadows so ominous. Type knew he was being melodramatic, but he couldn’t help it. He was homeless for what felt like the millionth time and he was going to have to ask his boss for help.

Reaching the second-floor landing, Type took a deep breath before knocking on the office door to the right.

A long moment of silence and a deep voice said, “Come in.”

The office was crowded with things and furniture, but that was only to be expected of an office that had to house all three owners: Thorn, Tharn, and Thanya Kirigun. Type swallowed, then closed the door behind him.

Tharn, the gorgeous and popular face of the bar and related businesses, looked up from the laptop he’d been working on. “Type,” he said with apparent surprise.

Type blinked. He hadn’t actually been sure the man knew his name. “Um, hi,” he said, waving and feeling like the world’s biggest dork.

“Have a seat.” Tharn closed the laptop. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes. I mean, no, not here. Nothing’s wrong with my job.” Type wiped his hands anxiously on his pants as Tharn waited patiently. “It’s, um, my roommate got us kicked out of our apartment. He’d been gambling away his half of the rent. The landlord blamed both of us and I need someplace to store my stuff for a little while until I find a new place.” Type ducked his head, not wanting to see pity or irritation on his boss’ face.

“Happily, this is a problem I can solve,” Tharn said.

Type’s head shot up. “Really?”

With a grin, Tharn nodded. “Really. You can move into my place in this building. There’s plenty of room.”

“Wow.” Type blinked. “Thanks. My stuff won’t take up much room and I’ll get it out of your hair soon.”

“You misunderstand.” Tharn raised an eyebrow. “I meant you _and_ your things.”

Type honestly had no idea what he was supposed to say, so he stared in shock.

* * *

Tharn kept his face calm and pleasant by sheer force of will and years of practice. On the one hand he was going to have Type, the gorgeous firecracker of a bartender, close at hand. On the other hand, Thorn and Thanya were going to _kill_ him.

But fuck, he was going to die happy. He could see Type struggling to respond. “We can discuss a reasonable rent later.”

Type took a breath. “But…I couldn’t…”

“Of course you can. An empty bedroom in Manhattan is a crying shame, right?” Would it be too much if he claimed to be lonely in his big fancy apartment? Yeah, probably. Type would never buy it, even though it was absolutely true.

Type was clearly wavering. “But won’t…I mean, it’ll look weird to the rest of the staff.”

“Maybe, but I’m a co-owner, so I don’t care.”

Sighing, Type nodded. “If you’re sure…it would definitely save a lot of trouble.”

“I’m sure.” Tharn smiled. He was looking forward to seeing Type in his home, even if the phone call he was about to make to his siblings was going to suck.

Digging through a drawer, he found a spare key, which he tossed to Type, who was looking stunned. “Next doorway over, second floor, door on the right. Bring your stuff up when you like.”

“I…uh…thanks?” Type smiled a real honest-to-goodness smile and damn if it wasn’t adorable.

“You’re welcome. Now I’ve got some work to do. I’ll be there around dinnertime. We can order something.” Tharn cursed internally, hoping Type wouldn’t think to ask how he already knew that Type wasn’t working that evening. 

“Okay.” Type stood. “I’ll, uh, see you then.”

Tharn watched Type’s extremely delectable ass leave the office, then picked up his phone. He’d better get this out of the way.

Dialing Thorn’s number, he leaned back in the creaky old office chair.

“Hey, bro,” Thorn said.

“Is Thanya there?”

“Yeees? What did you do?” There was rustling and the phone went on speaker as Thanya asked the same question.

“You know how you’ve been telling me I need more human contact that isn’t for work?” He grinned to himself. “Well, I have a roomie for the apartment.”

“You what?” Tharn asked.

“Crap,” Thanya said. “Please tell me it’s not who I’m thinking of.”

“Dear sister, I’m afraid it is.”

There was a long moment of silence before Thorn said, “You’re moving one of our bartenders into your apartment.”

“Not just _any_ bartender.”

“I know.” Thorn sighed. “You didn’t…do anything weird, did you?”

Tharn rolled his eyes, even though they couldn’t see him. “I swear, I was just sitting here working and he appeared in the office to say he’d been kicked out of his apartment. Something about his roommate not paying rent.”

“He asked for somewhere to stay? That doesn’t sound like him,” Thanya said.

“He asked for somewhere to store his stuff for a few days.”

Thorn sighed heavily again. “And you turned that into him moving in with you.”

“The opportunity appeared and I took it.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Thorn said.

“Horrible,” Thanya added.

“I swear, if you get us reported for sexual harassment of an employee…” Thorn trailed off. “I can’t even think of a threat bad enough for this situation.”

“Leaving aside New York City employment law…are you sure this is a good idea for _you_?” Thanya asked.

“No,” Tharn said honestly. “It’s probably a terrible idea, as you say. But he’s…” Tharn paused, unable to articulate entirely how he felt. “I need to see what happens. I’ve gotten a second chance and I have to know.”

“Does _he_ know that?” Thanya asked.

Leaning his head against the back of the chair, Tharn sighed. “No. I’ll tell him…eventually. Once it’s not as creepy.”

“That would be never, because this is 100% creepy,” Thorn said.

“Maybe 90%,” Thanya said.

“I’m so glad my siblings are supportive,” Tharn said to the ceiling. “I don’t know what I’d do otherwise.”

“Tharn…” they said.

“I know. Look, I’ll do my best to not get us sued or freak out the bartender.” Tharn could imagine the looks his siblings were exchanging at this moment.

“Fine,” Thorn said.

Thanya made an irritated noise. “If you’re set on this—”

“I am.”

“—then I guess we’ll just have to cross our fingers and hope.”

Tharn closed his eyes. “Thanks.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tharn saw Type for the first time when they were both freshmen at Columbia University. It was one of those fall days in Manhattan that’s almost too perfect to be real: a breeze coming east from the Hudson and ruffling through the trees, the sun gleaming off the buildings, no smell of smog, late summer flowers still blooming, attractive college students all around…

Tharn leaned on his best friend’s shoulder and eyed the people walking by. “I think I’m gonna like college,” he said, smirking.

“You do know that statistically, only a percentage of those guys are going to be gay, right?” Lhong elbowed Tharn, making him back off.

“Don’t harsh my joy,” Tharn said. “Besides, I know you’ll figure out which ones are gay or bi, thus saving a lot of time.”

Lhong put a hand to his heart dramatically. “I knew it! You’re just using me for my investigative skills!”

“You mean being the queen of gossip wherever you go.”

Lhong shrugged.

Tharn had been planning to say something else. He’d definitely had some more teasing in mind, but his eye was caught by three guys walking down the sidewalk. Or more specifically, by the taller one, clearly an athlete in his Columbia U t-shirt and shorts, holding a soccer ball. His shorts weren’t nearly short enough for Tharn’s taste, but the guy was obviously well-built and there something about his face…he was grinning at his friends and Tharn wanted that expression turned on him.

“Tharn!”

“Hmm?” Tharn looked at Lhong, before looking back at the soccer player.

“Which one?” Lhong asked, scanning the passing crowds.

“The one holding the soccer ball. Who is he?”

Lhong snorted. “Classes haven’t even started yet and you think I know everyone?”

Tharn just waited as the three guys got close to them, likely heading east toward Central Park.

“Fine.” Lhong huffed. “I know who he is. His name is Type and he’s expected to join the soccer team as a freshman. The other two are friends of his, but I don’t know their names.”

“There’s something you don’t know?” Tharn teased as he watched Type walk away.

“Gimme a week.” Lhong poked at Tharn. “Really? You’ve already got your eye on him?”

“Mmm, yeah.”

Lhong did track down some additional information over the next few days. Type was probably bi, although he’d only dated one guy in high school. He was an earth and environmental sciences major and could be found playing soccer when he wasn’t in class. Tharn managed to watch a few practices and perv on Type’s legs, which were absolutely perfect, but he hadn’t figured out how to meet him casually.

Classes ramped up quickly for Tharn and he cursed his brilliant idea to double major in music and political science, which had him running between Dodge Hall and the International Affairs building seemingly every hour. He really hoped that next semester his schedule wasn’t such a clusterfuck. 

The only bright side was that International Affairs was across Amsterdam Ave. from Schermerhorn Hall, where Type apparently had a class Tuesdays and Thursdays, because Tharn sometimes glimpsed him coming out along with classmates.

“Oh my god,” Lhong said over a milkshake. “You’re a stalker!”

“I’m not!” Tharn replied automatically, before slumping down in his seat and poking at the pizza crust on his plate. “Maybe.”

“Just walk up to him and say ‘hi.’”

“Hi, I’ve been staring at you from the bushes for a month now. Wanna grab a coffee?”

Sighing, Lhong flicked some milkshake off his straw at Tharn. “Maybe not like that. What happened to smooth Tharn who can charm the pants off any guy in an hour or less?”

“I don’t know,” Tharn said mournfully. 

He had _plans_ on how he was going to approach Type and be cool and smooth and somehow his plans were always stymied by real life. Too many people and too many classes and family obligations…it was never quite the right time.

* * *

The last time Tharn saw Type at Columbia was just before mid-terms in their first semester. It was fairly late in the evening and Tharn was walking down Amsterdam past Schermerhorn, heading toward the campus gate a block south, when he heard a weird noise on the other side of the fence.

He peered through the tall wrought-iron fence to see someone stagger away from a doorway. It was a student, tall, his arms wrapped around his stomach. It looked like he was sick, maybe. Tharn took an automatic step forward before realizing he was on the wrong side of the fence and would have to get to the gate and double back.

As the student went under a lamp, he lifted his head to look around. It was Type and he’d unmistakably been crying. Tharn was about to call out to him, but two other figures rushed toward him from the center of campus. It was his friends, Techno and Champ. 

“Hey, we’re here,” Techno gasped as he grabbed Type’s arm. “It’s okay.”

As Tharn stood helpless, arm outstretched, the two of them quickly guided Type away into the shadowy campus. After a moment, he ran for the gate, but by the time he’d made it through, they were nowhere to be seen.

Lhong learned that within days, Type had withdrawn from school, leaving behind a full scholarship, but he never did figure out why. Techno and Champ weren’t talking and nobody else seemed to know anything.

Tharn had mostly forgotten about Type in the remaining years of college, although he occasionally wondered what had happened to him.

So, years later, when he entered the bar that he co-owned and noted that the new bartender Thanya had hired was working that evening, it wasn’t until he passed by him to head into the backroom that he realized how familiar the face was.

Inertia kept him walking through the swinging door before Type caught him staring like he’d seen a ghost. When he’d reached the other side, he leaned against a wall and caught his breath. How the hell had the slim kid he’d crushed on freshman year grown up so hot? And why was he bartending? Where had he been? What happened to him to make him disappear?

Banging his head against the wall, Tharn told himself he didn’t have any right to demand answers to those questions. Type didn’t even know who he was. It would look creepy as fuck to start talking to him now as if they knew each other.

Tharn would play it cool. He’d find a way to get to know Type naturally.


	3. Chapter 3

Tharn’s first crush on Type was, obviously, purely physical. He admired the other’s body, especially when running, and adored his smile. But other than a few tidbits dug up by Lhong, he didn’t really know anything about him.

But since Type had started work at Prime, Tharn had had the opportunity to watch and listen up close and actually interact with him in a way he never had in college. He learned a lot about Type.

He was foul-mouthed as they come, for example. Listening to him after he dropped a table on his foot was a master class in obscenity and Tharn was still laughing about some of the phrases he heard days later.

Type was also fiercely loyal and a good friend, despite said foul mouth. Tharn overheard him talking to someone on the phone during a work break and Tharn spent 10 minutes in a doorway, listening to Type talk his friend through a crisis.

Type could be hilarious when he wanted to be, cracking up the entire staff during meetings with precisely timed snarky comments. Tharn struggled to not put his chin in his hands and stare dreamily at him.

Type was also hot-headed and protective. Tharn came through the doors from the kitchen one late afternoon just in time to overhear a customer say to his friend, “Hey, see that blonde at the end? I bet if you slipped her something, she’d be a killer in bed.”

Before Tharn could even react, Type was slamming his hands down on the bar in front of him, glaring at the man. “If you ever even _think_ something like that again, I’ll punch you so hard, your nose will come out the back of your head.”

“Why you…” the man snarled, half coming off the barstool. “Lemme talk to your manager.”

Tharn straightened his tie and smiled politely as he took a few steps forward to stand next to Type. “What a coincidence, I happen to be his manager.” As the man opened his mouth to complain, Tharn stopped smiling. “And I happen to agree with my employee completely. I would invite you to take your patronage somewhere else. Immediately.”

Stunned, the two men stumbled out of the bar. Tharn turned to look at Type, sure his grin was just as wide as Type’s. For a moment, they were in complete accord, and then Type seemed to remember who he was grinning at and he looked away. “Uh, sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry.” Tharn reminded himself he didn’t have a right to touch Type to comfort him. “I meant it. I agree completely with what you said.”

“Thank you.”

“You probably shouldn’t make a habit of threatening _all_ our customers,” he said, pleased when Type smiled slightly at that. “But I do make exceptions and that’s one of them.”

He wanted to keep talking to Type but both of them had things to do, so he nodded and went upstairs. And if he spent 15 minutes smiling at the memory of how adorable Type was when he was angry, well, there wasn’t anyone to see it.

* * *

After leaving Tharn in the office, Type stared at the apartment key in his hand, then sent Techno a text to let him know to drive around to the bar. While waiting, he sat down in a chair facing the street and had a quick freak out.

The owners of Prime were classified by the employees thus: Thanya was the nice one. She dealt with human resources issues and was the one you went to if your mother was sick and you needed time off. Thorn was the stern one. You went to him if someone stole your tips or a customer was harassing you.

Tharn…well, Tharn was the hot one. Nobody really went to him for anything because he hadn’t spent much time at the bar. Everyone said that had changed recently but Type hadn’t noticed a difference.

Anyway, Tharn was gorgeous and charismatic and he usually did the outreach and marketing, like buttering up suppliers and encouraging corporate clients to hire them for parties.

Type didn’t hate Tharn or anything. Hell, everything he’d seen and heard showed Tharn was a good guy. He was just intimidating, with the way he looked into your eyes and grinned like he knew your secrets. (Yihwa said she had no idea what he was talking about and Type was just jealous because Tharn was so hot.)

Type stood as Techno double parked in front of the bar, dashing outside to the sidewalk so they could get everything out before a cop came along to yell at them.

Once the car was unloaded, Type leaned against the pile and waited for Techno to park and come back.

Jogging up a few moments later, Techno grinned. “I’m glad this worked.”

“Yeah.” Type lifted a box. “This won’t be weird as hell.”

“C’mon, it’s just storage for a bit. What’s the big deal?”

“Read my text again. He’s letting _me_ stay, not just my stuff,” Type yelled over his shoulder as he opened the door that led to the upstairs apartments.

His coworker, Cho, was coming out of Prime and said, “What?” as Type turned to keep from tripping on the narrow staircase.

“Hang on,” Type said, trudging up, then putting the box down in order fish the key out of his pocket. Holding his breath, he stuck it in the lock, almost surprised when it easily turned and opened the door. He shoved the box inside, then jogged down the steps.

Cho was talking to Techno when he came out the door. “You’re staying with Tharn?” he asked Type.

“Yeah.” Type shrugged, uncomfortable. This wasn’t how he’d meant for it to get out. “I guess he felt sorry for me.”

“He feels _something_ ,” Cho muttered.

Type scowled. “There’s nothing going on. Maybe like the rest of us he could use a little extra income.”

Cho didn’t look convinced, but he went on his way.

When Type turned, Techno was looking worried. “There’s nothing…I mean…”

Clapping Techno on the shoulder, Type shook his head firmly. “There was no funny business, I swear.”

“Okay, but let me know—”

“I will. Now stop being a lazy ass and take your turn carrying a box. Second floor on the right.”

Techno rolled his eyes but grabbed a box.

Type looked up at the second floor of Prime and hoped he was telling the truth.

* * *

It didn’t take long to move everything in with Techno helping and soon enough, Techno was trudging upstairs behind him with the last bag of clothing as Type moved everything from the landing and into the apartment. “Nearly done,” Techno said as he came through the doorway. “Are you…” Techno’s grip on the bag loosened and it dropped to the ground as he looked around. “Wow.”

Type turned and took his first good look at the apartment. He’d been so focused on his stuff that he hadn’t really looked. And…yeah, wow was a pretty good word.

If you’d asked Type what he thought Tharn’s apartment might look like, he’d have guessed something sleek and modern, something like Prime, with chrome and sharp angles. But this was…not that.

The building was old and whoever had redone the apartment managed to keep that feeling without making it look boring and stuffy.

The molding along the high ceilings was painted in a vivid green, setting off the creamy white walls. The rug running through the entryway matched perfectly and was definitely not from Target. The art on the walls was abstract, but not off-putting. It made Type want to stare at it and try to figure out what it meant.

Curiosity pulled him like a magnet through the entryway into a room with a small dining room table and chairs, plus some tall cabinets. Type looked left toward the living room, which was done in shades of blue and hints of red that somehow didn’t clash with the green. The furniture—a sofa and loveseat, plus two chairs—looked comfortable and surprisingly lived-in, but not shabby like everything Type owned.

There was a bulging bookshelf running the full length of the living room, with an assortment of books and magazines and objects nearly falling off the ends. That made Type feel better. This wasn’t a museum, but a place someone lived. The large windows that covered most of the far wall were covered with sheer curtains that allowed lots of light through. (Type was also relieved to see a window unit, so at least he wasn’t going to boil in the summer.)

Behind him, Techno whistled. “Moving up in the world, buddy.”

“Yeah.” Type shook his head and peered down a hallway straight ahead from the front door. “Okay, I assume one of the rooms ahead of us is the spare bedroom. I forgot to ask which.”

Techno poked him in the back. “I’m not opening any doors.”

Tentatively, Type walked into the hall. Well, to the right was the kitchen and laundry room, so one of the doors on the left was the master bedroom. Probably the farthest. Which meant the first door to his left was probably it.

The door stuck a bit due to decades of paint layers, but with a tug, it opened, revealing what was certainly the guest room, with a bed, dresser, and mirror. It was all plain, but somehow still fancier than anywhere he’d ever lived. Techno pushed past him, carrying the bag of clothing.

Dropping the bag, Techno gave the room a once-over. “Are you sure there’s no funny business?”

Type wasn’t sure of anything at this point, but he didn’t exactly have another choice. “It’s fine.”

“Just promise to call if you need help.”

“I promise,” Type said. “It’s okay, though.”

Techno didn’t look convinced, but they hauled his stuff in, piling it on the dresser and in a corner.

Finally, Type was closing the door behind Techno. With a deep breath, he turned and went down the hallway into the bedroom.

How long was he going to stay here? How much should he unpack? How weird was this going to be?

Did he even want to know the answers to those questions?

* * *

Type took some of his clothing out and put it in the dresser, figuring he might as well. He also took out all his school-related things and his laptop. That was most important.

Looking at his watch, it was only 4 and Tharn…his _roommate_ Tharn, had said dinnertime. Rubbing sweaty palms on his thighs, he decided this was a good time to work on the essay due in a week.

Cross-legged on the bed, he opened his laptop and pulled up his notes for his class on sustainability and came up with a few more ideas to include.

When he heard the front door open, sometime later, it took a minute to remember where he was. Taking a deep breath, he saved his work and stood, tentatively stepping out of the bedroom. Tharn was just taking his shoes off by the door, looking up when heard Type.

Type was taken aback at the broad smile Tharn gave him. It wasn’t a professional or polite smile, it was…kind of breathtaking, honestly. He waved, feeling awkward. “Hi.”

“You’re all settled?”

“Yeah.” Type stuck his hands in his pockets. “Thanks again.”

Tharn flashed him a quick grin, which might have been even more breathtaking than the smile. “So, what would you like for dinner? My treat.”

Type shrugged. “I’m not picky. I like pretty much anything.”

Loosening his tie, Tharn opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of takeout menus. At Type’s raised eyebrows, he laughed. “I can’t cook anything more difficult than pasta.”

“You live on takeout?” Type scowled. “I guess my first job here is to make sure you eat some real food.”

“I’d be delighted to eat your cooking.”

At that, Type remembered he was talking to his boss. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Tharn laughed, sorting through the menus. “Please don’t be so formal.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask. Okay, maybe Indian?” Tharn pulled a menu out of the stack.

“Sure, sounds good.”

* * *

Dinner started out awkward and silent, but Tharn said Type was welcome to read or watch anything on the shelves in the living room and they managed to start a reasonable conversation about books and movies.

Somehow that segued into talking about Prime and the family businesses. “I wasn’t quite born with the proverbial silver spoon,” Tharn said with a shrug. “But I was born with a lot of privilege, so I don’t exactly think of myself as that accomplished.”

“Was Prime already successful when you took over?”

“Well, no, but I didn’t do that mys—”

Type snorted out a laugh. “Your brother and sister helped, yeah, I know. That doesn’t mean the three of you haven’t accomplished things. Aren’t there other properties?”

“Yeah. Two restaurants farther uptown and there’s some investments that Thorn mainly handles.”

“Hey, I’m impressed, but what do I know?” 

Tharn could hear the self-deprecation in Type’s voice and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. “I’m sure you know a lot of things I don’t know.”

“Sure. How to keep roaches out of the pantry and where the cheapest produce is.”

“Type. Don’t put yourself down.”

Type looked up, seeming startled.

“I mean…I don’t look down on you, so don’t look down on yourself just because you weren’t born to money.” Tharn wanted to smack himself on the head for sounding dorky, so he hurried on. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

“My parents live in Queens. That’s where I was born. My mom’s a preschool teacher and my dad works at a bar. It’s how I learned bartending, sort of accidentally.” Type shrugged. “They don’t have much money so I’ve been on my own since...for a while. They send me a little money when they have it.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Type didn’t respond, but he had a tiny smile on his face as he looked down at his food, so Tharn considered that a victory.

* * *

As he jogged downstairs and walked next door, Type had to admit the commute to work couldn’t be beat. It felt weird, but definitely time-saving.

Smoothing his button down, Type headed to the bar, waving at Yiwha. As he slid into place next to her, she waggled her eyebrows at him. “Hey, what’s this about you becoming a kept man?”

Type almost dropped the glass he was lifting. “Sorry, what?”

“A little birdie told me you’re living with the hot boss. What’s up with that?”

“A little b—Cho. Right.” Sighing, Type flapped a hand at her. “It’s not like that. I mean, it’s sort of like that, but there’s nothing weird with Tharn. He’s just doing me a favor so I don’t end up homeless.”

“Honey, a favor would be letting you borrow a few chairs for a party. A favor is not moving you in with him!” Her eyes were wide as she leaned close.

“You’re making too big a deal of this.” Type started checking the hard liquor stock in his area. “It’s fine.”

“If you say so.” She didn’t sound convinced. 

Two waiters came by and smirked at him, which he ignored, although he considered punching Cho the next time he saw him.

Things heated up a few minutes later, giving him very little time to worry about which coworkers were judging him and which weren’t. He learned how to make a new cocktail from a regular and showed off some skills for a new customer. By 9 pm he was feeling good and back in the groove.

Which was, of course, when Thorn and Thanya strolled through the doors and headed straight for him. Type thought it wasn’t so much a deer in headlights feeling, because that would be an accident. No, this was more like being a bunny too scared to run away from a fox. Or two foxes, in this case.

Smiling weakly, Type waited for his doom. Yiwha shot him a sympathetic glance but made herself scarce.

Thanya’s smile seemed genuine but Thorn looked as likely to start scowling as anything else. “I assume you’ve moved in,” Thorn said.

“Er, yes,” Type said when it seemed like Thorn was waiting for a response. “I didn’t ask—”

“We know,” Thanya said, elbowing Thorn. “We know Tharn. Things happen when he gets involved.”

Type smiled gratefully at her. “Yes, that’s exactly it.”

Thorn was frowning now, but he looked more understanding.

“I’m not…” Type gestured vaguely, trying to convey his innocence of all ulterior motives toward their brother.

Thorn and Thanya exchanged a look. “He didn’t force you?” Thanya asked.

“No no, of course not!” Type waved both hands. “He offered and I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Thorn was looking at him closely and Type was unsure what he was looking for, so all he could do was stand there in his uniform and try not to break out in a cold sweat.

Thanya rolled her eyes and turned away to face the rest of the bar. “So?” she asked Thorn.

Shrugging, he looked at Type. “Don’t cause any trouble for Tharn and we’re fine.”

“He won’t,” Thanya said at the same time Type said, “I won’t.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone,” Type added. “I just need a place to live.”

Thorn nodded slowly. “Okay then.” And he headed toward the backroom.

Thanya watched him go, then smiled at Type. “He just worries about us. It’s apparently an older brother thing.”

Type nodded.

She bit her lip. “Tharn is…lonely, as surprising as that sounds.”

Type nodded again, more slowly. That was definitely surprising.

“Maybe give him a chance as a friend.”

“I…okay. I don’t know that he wants to be my friend, but okay.” Type was absolutely not sure what was going on, but he didn’t want to disappoint Thanya.

* * *

The first week as roomies was fairly quiet. Type had class and Tharn had meetings and they were both in and out of the bar. Type slowly relaxed and started to feel like maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea. If it weren’t for certain coworkers showing their entire ass, things would feel totally normal.

When Type cooked, he made some extra and left it for Tharn if they didn’t eat together. In exchange, Tharn ordered in extra groceries. It worked out pretty well, because it turned out that when you’re a fancy-pants rich person ordering groceries, you get really good quality stuff. 

While he wasn’t a gourmet chef or anything, Type was a halfway decent cook and he enjoyed having good materials to work with for once. No second day anything or dented cans and Tharn’s kitchen had stuff in it he’d never even heard of and had to Google.

“Why’d you even have tamarind paste if you don’t cook?” Type asked as he tasted the sweet and sour sauce, straight off an Internet recipe. 

Tharn was silent long enough for Type to turn and look at him where he leaned against the refrigerator. Tharn looked embarrassed and Type had to resist the urge to laugh at him. This was going to be good.

“Er,” Tharn said. “My sister.”

“Your sister.”

“Yes.” Tharn rubbed the back of his neck. “She used to come over and cook in my kitchen when she lived in the other apartment with Thorn. She said it sucked to cook just for herself and she and Thorn fought too much when they were both in the kitchen.”

Snickering, Type turned the water on for the noodles. “She stopped when she moved out?”

“She stopped when she walked in on my ex-boyfriend and me having sex on the couch.”

Type broke out into a laughing/coughing fit, finally calming enough to turn and look at Tharn, who had an odd look on his face. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Is it okay?”

“What? That you’ve had sex? Not really my business.”

“I mean that I’m gay.”

Rolling his eyes, Type tossed the noodles in the pot and turned to hand plates to Tharn. “I don’t spend a lot of time reading tabloids or the society pages, but even I knew that already. Whatever floats your boat, dude.”

Tharn’s face had an even odder expression now, but Type ignored it and started assembling the pad thai, trying not to spill the shrimp on the floor. It was no surprise that Tharn was gay but how the hell was Type supposed to do anything ever again without imagining Tharn fucking some guy on the couch in the other room?

Facing the sink, he did his best to avoid thinking of a naked Tharn, strong legs flexing as he pounded—

Gulping, Type hoped that Tharn thought the redness of his face was from the steaming noodles.


	4. Chapter 4

Another week went by and everything was settling into a new normal.

Type had a few hours free before his next shift but he didn’t feel like sitting in his room. It was chilly in the living room, so he grabbed his notes from his literature class, going to the window seat, where the sun coming through made it warm. Notes propped on his knees, he tried to absorb the details of the Langston Hughes poem they’d been assigned.

Deep in his attempt to come up with something novel or interesting to say about “Mother and Son”, he was surprised by the sound of the door opening. When Tharn came around the corner, he blinked at the sight of Type, his expression unreadable.

“Er, sorry,” Type said, fumbling his pen as he tried to stand. “I’ll go back to—”

“No, it’s okay.” Tharn dropped his briefcase by the dining room table. “Really, you look comfortable. I haven’t used that seat much. Someone should.”

“Oh.” Slowly, Type sat back down and picked his pen up off the floor and settling back into the seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tharn walking toward him.

“You read poetry?” 

Type looked up, ready to bite back at the comment, but saw only honest interest, rather than surprise or smug amusement. “Not usually,” he admitted. “But this literature class fit my work schedule and let me get a core class out of the way, so…”

“You’re in college.”

“About a third of the way through a program at CCNY. They have this thing called the Center for Worker Education that’s really flexible.” Type fiddled with his pen.

“Good for you.” Tharn smiled. “Please tell me that Prime is helping you take classes.”

“Yeah, actually. It’s why I took the job. It’s not a lot of money, but it’s a little bit for every credit hour and it adds up.”

“Oh good.” Tharn feigned relief. “I’m glad I don’t have to yell at my sister.”

Type couldn’t help smiling. “Definitely not.”

“So it’s an undergrad degree?”

“Yeah, in urban studies. I started college but…” Type stared down at the floor. “I left pretty quickly.”

“I know.”

“What?” Type looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“I started at Columbia at the same time you did. I remember seeing you play soccer.” Was Tharn actually _blushing_? 

“You…what?” Type stared.

“You wouldn’t remember me,” Tharn said hastily. “I liked watching soccer. Well, soccer players,” he said.

Now it was Type’s turn to blush. “Oh. Um.”

“I was getting up the nerve to ask you out, in fact.” Tharn looked…nervous? Type had seen him in all kinds of work and home situations and he radiated cool.

“Me?”

“Yeah. But time got away from me and you were gone.”

“Wait, you’ve known that the whole time I worked here?”

“Mmm. There never seemed to be a non-creepy time to say that, so…”

“And you think _this_ is a non-creepy time?”

Tharn winced. “Thorn and Thanya agree with you, if that helps. I just didn’t want to hide it and create a misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding?” Type crossed his arms and waited.

Tharn’s mouth opened and closed. “Um…”

Type shook his head. “Never mind. I need a place to live and as long as you’re not expecting sexual favors in lieu of rent, we’ll be fine.”

Tharn coughed, then cleared his throat. “No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Okay, then.” Type grabbed his pen and book and notebook and walked out of the living room.

As the bedroom door shut behind him, Type sank to the ground, back to the door, dropping his books on the floor. He let out his breath and put his face in his hands. Tharn was a good guy. Tharn wasn’t like _him_. It didn’t change anything to know that Tharn had been attracted to Type when they were freshmen.

Type breathed in and out. He was safe. Tharn wouldn’t hurt him. He’d had plenty of opportunities before this and had been nothing but kind.

Levering himself off the floor, Type grabbed his poetry book, determined to get some more studying done. He wasn’t going to waste this chance of a steady and comfortable place to live and study.

* * *

When Type had retreated to the bedroom, Tharn slumped down onto the couch. Well, that…was about what he should have expected from Type, actually. It definitely could have gone worse. At least Type no longer seemed intimidated by him.

Standing, Tharn went to his personal liquor cabinet. Despite (or because of) owning a bar, he drank little himself, but this seemed like a good time for a shot of whisky.

Tharn looked out the window, which overlooked a tiny courtyard belonging to the apartment building behind them. It was often occupied by young kids whose parents needed them out of the apartment for a while. The grass was patchy and the dirt hard, but the kids he could see didn’t seem to care, tossing a ball back and forth, dropping it more often than they caught it.

College hadn’t been _that_ long ago, so why did it feel like he’d forgotten what it was like to have any freedom? His siblings managed to have somewhat normal lives. Thorn had a lovely wife who worked on Wall Street who he adored and Thanya had been dating a grad student for a few months and was deliriously happy. The guy seemed okay, although Tharn was keeping an eye on him just to be sure. (And yes, he’d had Lhong, now a police detective in Chicago, investigate him.)

Tharn missed playing drums. When was the last time he’d played with other musicians? He missed dating. No, that was wrong. He missed having a partner. Dating was a grind that usually seemed to waste time. Having someone to spend time with was what he missed.

Maybe his siblings were right and this was a terrible idea. But even if Type wasn’t interested him, they might still manage to be friends. Tharn felt like he was short on those too.

* * *

Type gritted his teeth and reminded himself it wouldn’t be a good idea to punch any of his coworkers, even if they _were_ being assholes right now.

“Why don’t you go ask your roommate?” Earth retorted when Type asked him to bring a few more bottles of wine from the back.

“Why don’t you shove it—” Type ground to a halt when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Earth, take a Sam Adams to table B6, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Type sighed as Tharn patted his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t let them get to you,” Tharn said, leaning against the bar next to him.

Type snorted. “Easy for you to say. You’re the boss.”

“I know they’re being jerks but I really think they’re just teasing.”

Letting his head hang down, Type took a couple of breaths and waited for the adrenaline of anger to fade. “Yeah. You’re right.” He looked up, managing a grin. “But you’d better get back to your work, because right now you’re just feeding the fire.”

Chuckling, Tharn pushed off the bar. “Aye aye, cap’n. Back to swabbing the deck.”

Type rolled his eyes and went to check on a customer who was trying to catch his eye. He was absolutely not thinking about how hot Tharn was when he laughed. Definitely not.

* * *

They had a rhythm going now, which enabled Tharn to see how hard Type was working. He took as many hours at the bar as he could, plus working parties Tharn had booked for the bar, plus occasional side jobs. He was taking two classes, partially online but wholly engrossing. 

And he insisted on cooking for Tharn, which was hard to resist, if Tharn was honest. He did put his foot down on Type doing cleaning beyond the most basic tidying, pointing out that he’d had a maid coming in weekly for years and he couldn’t put her out of work. That had been a successful argument.

Type was obviously tired all the time. Tharn wanted to tuck him into bed and cuddle him while he slept, helping him sleep away the bags under his eyes and the permanent furrow in his brow. He settled for doing his best to help with the cooking, which had the benefit of letting him spend more time with Type but the downside of causing him to have even more of a crush.

It was frankly ridiculous, Tharn thought. He was a grown man who was about half a step away from doodling their initials together inside a heart on the margins of his papers. 

But it was even better having Type living in his home than he’d thought because this was real. It was yawning as they handed bits of the newspaper back and forth in the morning. It was bed head on the way to the shower. It was debates over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. It was someone to complain to when a vendor screwed up and listening to Type complain about his coworkers or his classes.

Okay, he still had some very vivid ideas about how he’d like to pin Type to the wall and kiss him senseless, but this was good. This was what he’d really missed and he was happier than he remembered being in years.

* * *

When Tharn came into the living room one evening, drying his hair, Type had his feet up on the couch, back against the armrest and pen in his mouth as he furiously flipped through a book. He was mumbling around the pen and Tharn felt a rush of…affection? Lust? Love? Something. 

Like a magnet, the sight of Type drew Tharn toward the couch and he sank down next to Type’s feet, grinning helplessly at him. He couldn’t help grinning more as Type poked Tharn’s leg with a foot but didn’t look up from the book.

Tharn grabbed the novel on the end table that he’d been trying to read for a week. Maybe it would finally grab his interest now. Settling in, he found his spot and tried to focus on the book rather than the enticing guy next to him, who was mumbling something uncomplimentary about the author of his own book.

They’d been sitting together for a while and Tharn was actually starting to get absorbed in the book. It was slow going but now that the antagonist had been introduced, things were starting to heat up.

A small part of his brain noted that his hand had slipped down and was resting on Type’s leg but he didn’t consciously think about it. As the two main characters started a push and pull argument, Tharn absently stroked Type’s ankle with his thumb.

Tharn was shocked when Type kicked him. Hard. The book went flying and Type was scrambling off the couch away from him, looking horrified.

“What…?” Tharn put his hands up and stayed put. “Whoa, what did I do?”

Type’s breathing was erratic and he didn’t look like he could answer.

“Okay. Whatever I did, I’m sorry.” Tharn tried to reboot his brain. “I…was touching you? That’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I apologize.” He spoke slowly and clearly, not moving as he watched Type’s reactions.

Slowly, Type’s breathing normalized and he turned red, scooting even further back. “No, I…I overreacted.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Really. I shouldn’t have been touching you without your permission.” 

Type shook his head, although it didn’t look like it was disagreement. “I shouldn’t have kicked you.”

“Eh, I probably deserved it.” Tharn tried on a tiny smile for size.

Type almost managed to smile back but he was clearly still upset.

“I know it’s not my business, but can I ask if, uh, something happened to you?” Tharn swallowed. “Did someone hurt you?” He bit back the follow-up question: And can I find that person and beat the shit out of them? 

Lips pursed, Type looked at him. Tharn wasn’t sure what basis he was being measured on, but he hoped he passed. He tried to wait patiently as Type looked away first. “Yeah,” he said after a while. “Someone hurt me.”

Tharn spoke softly. “You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to talk about it. I’ll listen.” 

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Type looked at Tharn, his thoughts entirely unreadable. “It’s not a nice story,” he said after a while.

“I figured it wasn’t.” Tharn tried to come up with the right words. “I was kind of hoping we were friends and it might help to talk to a friend.”

“Friends.”

“I mean, I know I’m your boss but—”

“Shut up,” Type said. “Yeah, it might help to talk about it.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “You probably guessed it has to do with why I left college.”

“Yeah.”

Type shook his head. “It was just before mid-terms and I wasn’t doing great in my oceanography class. You know how it is when you’re a freshman, first taste of freedom and you’re sure you can catch up on the reading next week.” 

Tharn nodded even though he knew Type wasn’t looking at him.

“The professor offered to help me prepare for the mid-term exam. I thought it was so awesome that this big important guy would want to help a freshman in his 101-level class.” Type’s voice was bitter and Tharn got a very bad feeling in his stomach. “How stupid was I?”

“You don’t have to—”

“You wanted to know.” Type looked up from the floor. “So you’ll listen.”

Tharn got the message and shut up.

“I went to his office that evening after dinner. He said he’d be working on his next book. I was so damned stupid. The building was absolutely empty.” Type drew in a shaky breath. “He grabbed me pretty much the minute I stepped into his office and started groping me.”

“Fuck,” Tharn whispered.

“I pushed him away at first but he said that he’d fail me in his class and tell the other professors I was a troublemaker. I didn’t know what…I thought I wanted to stay at Columbia.” His voice broke and a sob came through.

Tharn couldn’t help it, surging off the couch onto the floor to pull Type into a hug, holding his shaking body close. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“I let him,” Type said through sobs against his shoulder. “I just sat there and let him do what he wanted because I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s not your fault.” Tharn held him, stroking his back. “Even if you weren’t fighting back, it’s not your fault.”

Type’s hands gripped Tharn’s back like Type was afraid he was falling, and Tharn just held on, tears falling from his eyes as he imagined the scene and remembered the look on Type’s face that night. If he’d known…

As the tears and shaking slowed, Type murmured into Tharn’s shoulder. “My best friends came to get me and we went back to the dorm. I realized I couldn’t stay at Columbia after what he’d done. I couldn’t go to class and see him. I should have just punched him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tharn repeated. “He knew you’d be scared and confused and he took advantage of that.”

“Techno and Champ wanted me to report him. But who was going to believe a freshman who was failing his class over a tenured professor?”

“They might have, but yeah. I understand.” Tharn stroked Type’s hair and wondered if there was something he could do. It was certainly worth having Lhong check into who this professor might be and where he might be these days…

Tharn was sure that Type would pull away, but he didn’t. So Tharn continued to hold him and rub his back. Hell, he’d do this for the rest of their lives if the prickly guy would let him.

Gradually, Type relaxed against him. Tharn wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. “What do you need?” he finally asked.

Face still buried in Tharn’s shoulder, Type didn’t speak.

“It’s okay. Don’t feel bad. I want to help you,” he murmured in Type’s ear, trying to find the right words, the right tone.

“Will you…” Type’s hands clutched at his back.

“Anything. I mean it.”

The sound that Type made was small and hurt. “Don’t let go.”

Tharn couldn’t help holding Type even closer. “Of course. Of course. We…is it okay if we move to the bed? Or the couch. The couch is okay.”

Type breathed in and out a few times. “The…the bed. If that’s…”

“It’s fine.” Tharn buried his face in Type’s hair for a long moment before trying to figure out the logistics of getting up without letting go.

* * *

Type couldn’t figure out what was going on. He’d had an (unusual) flashback when he was touched unexpectedly. But when Tharn held him, he felt safe. Tharn’s arms were warm and strong and gentle.

He should be hiding in his bedroom, horribly embarrassed, but instead he found himself asking to sleep in bed with Tharn. This was an active disaster, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Right now he needed this comfort.

Tharn stood, pulling him up as well, and they walked into Tharn’s bedroom. Tharn gently drew him down, lying behind him and spooning. A few more tears leaked out of Type’s eyes and he heard Tharn murmuring in his ear as he held him close.

There was no question this was a total disaster, but for now, Type slept.

* * *

Sun slanting through the window lit the room with a gentle glow. Type stared across the room at a drum set and guitar that definitely didn’t belong to him.

He felt relaxed. Rested. Like he’d slept better than he ever remembered. Why…

The arm draped over his stomach moved and it all came back. Type froze, breath catching in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Tharn asked quietly.

Type closed his eyes again. He’d slept with his boss. Slept as in sleeping but still. He’d told him his story and cried all over him and oh god, how could he ever face him again?

Propping himself up on his other arm, Tharn leaned over him, breath warm on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Type said, eyes still closed. “I need to go. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Hey. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m glad you were willing to talk to me.”

“Now you know that I’m a fuckup who dropped out of college because of one shitty thing and hasn’t caught up again.” Type squirmed, trying to sit up.

Tharn let him sit but scooted closer. “That’s not what I heard. I heard that you were attacked and recovered by yourself, have been supporting yourself for years, and now you’re going back to school. That’s admirable.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Tharn’s shoulder leaning against his back, Type tried to process that. “Admirable?”

“Remember when we talked about privilege? If I’d been attacked, I would have gotten so much therapy, my father would have called the chancellor, and I still don’t know if I would be coping as well as you are now.” Tharn moved to kneel behind him, wrapping his arms gently around Type. “You’re awesome.”

To his shame, Type felt tears in his eyes again. “Oh.”

“I really am glad you trusted me enough to tell me. I want to help.”

“Why?”

Tharn rested his forehead against the back of Type’s head. “When I said I had a crush on you in college? Um…I kind of have one now too.”

Type fought the urge to leap out of the bed and run far away. Tharn had helped. He wasn’t taking advantage. Tharn was being honest. He wasn’t afraid of Tharn, because Tharn was safe.

“I don’t expect anything from you, I swear.”

When Type didn’t respond, Tharn started to let go, but Type grabbed his hands and held on. “Wait.”

“I can wait.”

Type looked down at the hands clasped around his stomach, now covered by Type’s own hands. Tharn was…he wanted Type? “What do you want?”

Tharn let out a shaky breath. “Can we do this face-to-face? It’s okay to say no.”

Slowly, Type nodded. When Tharn’s hands loosened, Type slid back on the bed, sitting cross-legged. Gathering his courage, he looked up at Tharn, whose bed head was unreasonably attractive, as was his hopeful expression.

“Thank you,” Tharn said.

Type nodded.

“You asked what I want. I want to be with you, but what that means is up to you.” Tharn’s eyes flickered to their hands, which is when Type realized he had grabbed them again. “I’d like to date you, but if you don’t want that, it’s okay. You can live here. We can be friends. I like that too.”

It felt like Type’s head was floating away. This was…never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this moment. “I…”

“I didn’t mean to pressure you.” Tharn stared down at their hands “I’m sorry—”

“Stop.” Type squeezed his hands. “It’s just too damned early for life-changing decisions.”

Tharn peeked up, a grin emerging. “It’s 10 am.”

“See? Too early.” Type couldn’t help grinning back. “Let me go make pancakes or something. I need food.”

“Pancakes, check. Can I help?”

“Orange juice. Squeeze some oranges. Life-changing decisions definitely need fresh orange juice.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

Difficult as it was to let go of the strong hands that had make him feel safe, Type managed to stand and go to the kitchen. He needed some time.

* * *

Tharn followed Type’s directions, making sure to keep a respectful distance away but not obnoxiously so. He was as capable of being a clueless ass as any man, but he knew he was being tested.

As Type stirred batter, Tharn asked a question about his urban studies class. 

They chatted over brunch, Tharn telling Type about an argument he’d had with the glassware supplier.

As had become their habit, Tharn cleaned up while Type finished his juice and relaxed. As Tharn slid the last plate into the dishwasher, he felt arms slide around his waist.

“Let’s sit down on the couch,” Type said against the back of his neck.

Tharn nodded, his voice overwhelmed by the feel of Type at his back.

Type tugged Tharn into the living room. When Tharn let go to look at Type’s face, he immediately found his lost voice. “Hey, whatever you’re going to say, it’s fine. I won’t be angry.”

“What if I want to move out?”

Tharn swallowed. “I’ll miss having you here.”

“What if I say I don’t want to date you?”

“That’s your choice, I swear. I didn’t mean to—”

“What if I want to date you?” Type spoke barely above a whisper.

This was it. Tharn took a breath and gave it his best shot. “Then I will cherish you.”

Type gulped. “I haven’t had a serious relationship. What if I suck at it?”

Relaxing, Tharn knew it was going to be okay. “What do you think we’ve been doing since you moved in?”

Type stared.

Tharn was sure his smile looked dopey, but he didn’t care. “We cook and eat meals together, we talk about our day, we sit on the couch and work together, we argue about politics. Minus the sex, that’s a relationship. We just skipped the awkward dating phase.”

Lips twitching, Type shook his head. “Does that mean you’re not going to bring me flowers?”

“If you want flowers, I’ll buy you an entire store.”

Type sat up straight, looking alarmed. “Don’t do that!”

Chuckling, Tharn patted his knee. “I promise, no buying random properties without checking with you first. Besides, Thorn and Thanya would yell at me too and I’m more frightened of them.”

Type pouted at him and it was absolutely ridiculously adorable. 

“One request, though.”

That got him a slightly suspicious look that Tharn was sure would take time to fade. “Yeah, what?”

“Can I pay for your college classes? So you don’t have to work quite so many extra hours?”

Type nodded slowly. 

“I want to take care of you, not take over, okay?” Tharn couldn’t help reaching out to caress Type’s cheek.

“Yeah.” Type cleared his throat. “That…that sounds good.”

“We’ll figure this relationship thing out together.” Tharn opened his arms, hopeful and holding his breath. Type looked a little shaky, but he leaned forward into an embrace. Gently, Tharn pulled him closer, burying his face in Type’s shoulder and breathing in. 

They sat like that for a while, just enjoying the closeness. When Type squirmed, Tharn loosened his arms and looked at him. Type no longer looked shaky, a smirk on his face and plans in his eyes.

“Um,” Tharn said. “Maybe we should wait—"

“I’m not _broken_ ,” Type said.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“So don’t treat me that way and take me back to the damn bed.”

Tharn grinned helplessly at his boyfriend. “Yes, sir,” he said with a jaunty salute as he stood, tugging on Type’s arm and leading him to the master bedroom.

Type was shaking his head but there was a tiny smile playing on his lips and Tharn knew he was a goner. Pulling Type close, he let them fall onto the bed and bounce. Tharn ended up most of the way on top of Type and he took a moment to look at the amazing guy in his bed. “Please don’t ever leave me,” he said softly.

Still smiling, Type ran his fingers through Tharn’s hair. “Of course not.”

Tharn smiled.

“How could I ever give up such a fabulous apartment in Manhattan?” Type asked, all innocence.

Laughing, Tharn leaned in to kiss the smirk off Type’s lips. “You…”

Type pulled Tharn in to deepen the kiss.

—end—

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the complete text of the poem Type is reading, which gave me the title and epigraph for the story, at https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47559/mother-to-son. It’s short but lovely and very appropriate for our boy Type.
> 
> And here’s the original summary for this fic:  
> As a part-time student and bartender in Manhattan, Type has found that a succession of roommates and cramped apartments are necessary evils. Until he’s out on the street and Tharn, his boss and certified babe-magnet, steps in. Anyone else would die to share his apartment, not to mention his bed, but independent Type’s determined that they should stay just friends. He wants to prove to their skeptical co-workers at Prime – the cocktail bar that gorgeous Tharn owns with his siblings – that the arrangement is strictly hands-off! But he’s having trouble sticking to his own rules…


End file.
